


Pressure Tears

by GreenElphaba



Category: Trigun
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenElphaba/pseuds/GreenElphaba
Summary: If Nick Wolfwood were a better man, he wouldn't be Nick Wolfwood.
Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Pressure Tears

The door was locked, briefly, but Vash’s expression when Nick broke in wasn’t irritation, just a half second of confusion before he went to idiot mode.  
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Priest, but isn’t your room down the hall?”  
Nick flicked the light off. He couldn’t see the idiot mask drop away, but he didn’t have to, he could sense it in the sudden, wary silence, in the way Vash’s shoulders dropped in the moonlight through the window. “Shut up,” he told the alien being whose room he had invaded, and crossed the little space, boots on wood, an anechoic prayer in the small dark room. He reached out for the collar of Vash’s coat, and Vash’s hands came up to stop him, but Nick cheated, he wasn’t faster than Vash but he was meaner. Vash was too adapted for violence, couldn’t see anything else coming anymore, and so his hands closed over emptiness when Nick’s were laid gently on his chest. There was a minute tremor, heartbeat-thick, as the bus of Vash’s thoughts hit a pothole, and in the complicit moonlight Nick saw that moment of confusion again. I could do anything to him, when he looks like that, and he’d let me, he thought.  
“Wolfwood.” That was Vash’s not-kidding voice, but he didn’t make another move to push Nick away, and Nick was betting he wouldn’t, at least not yet. He could feel chest under there somewhere, beneath the layers of cloth, moving as Vash breathed, waiting to find out what was happening, when the violence that he understood would come back.  
Nick was able to pop two of the coat buttons before Vash caught on. He fully expected to wind up flat on his ass, but Vash just twisted away. “I’m flattered, but I don’t like sleeping with men,” Vash said, trying for idiot voice and not quite making it there, maybe enough to fool the dumber of the insurance girls but not enough to fool Nick, who knew more about people than maybe anyone else alive, no matter how much drivel the blowhards around him—Vash included—liked to spout.  
“You don’t sleep with anyone,” he retorted, and pushed Vash. Vash allowed it, as of course he did, what was one more bit of violence in a lifetime that was carving him up like a ham? He was not as fast as Vash but he was at least faster than Vash thought he was, in his arrogant and somehow innocent certainty, and he got Vash against the wall before the other man had really decided on a reaction. There was that confusion again, a brief and heartbreakingly open moment where Nick could truly see all the way down those blue-green eyes to the soul that lay at the bottom, hiding from everything but the sky. “You’re happy enough to let a man shoot you, didn’t anyone ever teach you there’s pleasanter things to plant in flesh than a bullet?” He couldn’t afford to push too fast, but he couldn’t let up either, couldn’t give the other man a moment to catch his breath, decide on another pose. If I can keep him off-balance long enough, I might break through, he thought. He wanted that more than anything, wanted to knock Vash off his feet and force the man to be real with him. “The way I figure it,” Nick continued, “deep down you really don’t think any human is worth a damn.”  
That got a reaction, a shake of denial violent enough to force Nick back a few steps. He found himself facing the barrel of Vash’s gun, though Vash himself didn’t seem to really know what he wanted to do with it. He was shaking slightly, and in his lost expression, seen more clearly now that Nick’s eyes had adjusted, the priest thought there was something new—a need, a thirst. Submission. “Now, I know you aren’t going to fire that at me,” he said, stepping forward. “So you must be trying to hand it to me. It’s politer to do that handle-first, ya know,” Nick chided, wrapping his hand around the barrel of the gun. It slid out of Vash’s fingers more easily than he’d expected, and he smiled.  
“You really should go,” Vash said, his voice low and shaking, and when Nick undid the blond’s belt Vash gasped, but made no attempt to stop him.  
“You would have made me if you actually wanted that,” Nick said. “You’re stronger than me, faster than me, smarter than—well no, actually you’re not smarter than me.”  
“Pretty sure I am,” Vash mumbled as his coat hit the floor. He pushed at Nick, but without strength. Nick tossed the gun on the table and grabbed Vash’s wrists, pinned them over his head, and saw Vash’s eyelids flutter for a moment, just another brief hitch in the otherwise smooth workings of an immortal plant.  
“Maybe about math, spiky, but that’s about it.” He could feel the bones in Vash’s wrists moving as the tall man flexed his fingers and shifted, testing Nick’s commitment to holding him still. He tightened his grip, and as he found himself unable to escape Vash relaxed, his expression growing hazy with…something. Relief, Nick decided. He leaned in and kissed Vash.  
Vash turned his head. Nick followed him, kissed him again, felt Vash’s lips start to part before the blond broke the kiss again. So it’s like that, the priest thought, amused and aroused. He tightened his grip hard on Vash’s wrists and felt the blond quiver in his grip, a soft sigh escaping. “You look at me,” Nick told him, and he was obeyed.  
He leaned in, very slowly this time, and laid his mouth on Vash’s. He kept his eyes open long enough to see Vash’s close, and then he whispered against Vash’s lips, “Open your mouth, Vash.”  
There was no tension left in the Humanoid Typhoon as he did as he was told, and Nick slid his tongue into Vash’s mouth. He slid Vash’s arms from over his head to his sides, though he did not let go. He lapped at Vash’s tongue until it responded to him, until Vash was kissing him back. When he finally pulled away Vash did not close his mouth, though his hazy eyes opened slowly.  
“I’m going to play with your body,” Nick told him, and Vash shuddered, his hips snapping forward, a mute plea for more. Nick let go of his wrists slowly, and Vash just let them dangle, once again waiting to see what was going to happen, but this time Nick did not wonder how this would all turn out. Vash protested inarticulately when Nick started to undress him, but he made no attempt to stop him, none at all, his soft eyes trained on Nick’s face. Nick did not let on that it hurt to see the sheer extent of the damage unveiled. He did not understand why this particular captive angel chose not to heal the ugly love letters the human race kept mailing him, unless it was his own form of prayer, or proof of existence.  
Vash stirred, the faint beginning of a protest, so Nick pulled him close by the hair and kissed him again, scraped his nails lightly over scar tissue until his prize sagged in his arms. Vash’s mouth moved against his and Nick realized Vash was trying to talk, so he pulled back enough to hear.  
“What do you want? What do you want from me?”  
It could have been a general question—hell it could have been existential. Nick chose to regard it as a request for more orders. “I want you to undress me,” he said, and felt a thrill as he was obeyed again. Jacket, shirt, shoes, pants, all removed by a naked plant who wouldn’t look at him.  
“You’re a bad priest,” Vash whispered. His fingers hesitated on the waistband of Nick’s boxers, paused, looking demurely away like he was being forced into this, like Nick couldn’t see his cock fucking throbbing in the air, so hard it was almost straight up and glinting wet at the tip.  
“A better one wouldn’t have a thing to say to you, spikes,” Nick told him, and pushed that blond head down, hand crunching in product. Vash resisted just enough to find out Nick still meant it, and then he went to his knees. “Let me show you how we pray out in the wastes,” Nick told him. It was fitting that he smelled like cigarettes, that Vash always smelled like gunsmoke; the odors blended well with the musky scent of cock. He pulled his own damn boxers down, too impatient to linger on that part of the game, releasing his erection almost into Vash’s face. He stepped forward, and Vash sat back, coming off his knees with a thump, and Nick made a gun with finger and thumb, put it to Vash’s forehead. “Hands up,” he said softly, and after a moment Vash did as he was told, finally looking at Nick again, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. Nick backed him against the wall, step by step, Vash trying to avoid his cock the same way he’d tried to avoid his kiss. Needing to know I mean it, Nick thought. When Vash’s back thumped the wall Nick grabbed his raised wrists, pulled him, and now there was no escape, now he was truly caught between a cock and a hard place.  
He pushed the head of his cock against Vash’s lips, like another weapon, another gun waiting to fire, and Vash took it into his mouth with suicidal relish. Nick groaned as he felt Vash’s mouth close over his cock, long and delicate tongue moving beneath the glans. Vash couldn’t move, caught staring up at Nick with the flavor of precum turning his eyes hazy again. Nick pushed his hips forward hard, earning a wet and muffled gagging sound. This was another game, an even better one, one the priest had played in both positions at various times throughout his life, though this was the one he preferred. And Vash prefers to be right where he is, even if he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet. He made use of the soft and yielding tunnel of Vash’s throat, relishing every slurp and truncated protest. He knew exactly when the act changed over in Vash’s mind from something he was enduring to something he was enjoying, something he needed. He felt it in the sudden release of tension in his arms, he heard it in the changing tenor of those muffled sounds, becoming little, unwilling moans of want. He dropped Vash’s wrists and grabbed his face, tilted it upwards, forcing his cock a little deeper as Vash sucked lovingly on it, desperate for the hot bullet Nick could put down his throat. Nick could see the need in Vash’s eyes, see him begging wordlessly. Between his legs, Vash’s dripping cock had left a little puddle on the floor, proof of his need. Nick kept his eyes open as he came, pulling back a little so he spurted against Vash’s soft palate. He watched his lover’s blue green eyes fill with the knowledge of his taste, like a first sip of alcohol, bitter and defining. “Swallow it,” Nick told him.  
Vash didn’t immediately obey. Nick let his cock slide free and leaned in close, smiling tightly. “What’s wrong? I know you’ve taken plenty of shots before, you don’t like this one?” He took Vash’s chin in hand, held Vash’s mouth shut until his throat moved. Then he slid his thumb into that mouth, to check that he had really been obeyed, while Vash shuddered in humiliation and desire.  
“Please,” Vash said, when the thumb was withdrawn. He was looking away again and Nick let him, sure that some kind of confession was forthcoming.  
“Please what?”  
“Please touch me.” The words were almost too quiet to hear. Nick smirked and got his hand between Vash’s legs, stroked the cock the tall blond had never bothered to use.  
“Get up, ya bed bunny, and I’ll touch you plenty.”  
It took Vash two tries to get to his shaking legs with Nick’s hand still on him, drawing incoherent sounds from his swollen mouth. He leaned heavily on Nick, who directed him to the bed, pushed him down on his back, spread his trembling knees. “I bet you’d find this easier on your knees,” Nick told him, “but I’m not going to let you hide from me.”  
That got a faint smile, a dizzy acknowledgment that Nick drowned with kisses, covering Vash’s body with his own. Now Vash was eager for kissing, his panting mouth seeking Nick’s out, his hips rubbing with increasing desperation against Nick’s. There were words buried in the gasps, almost unintelligible, but Nick thought Vash might be saying please again as he twisted under the priest. Nick was more turned on than he could remember being since he was a teenager, his cock already hard again, rubbing deliciously against Vash’s. “I bet you can cum all night and never get tired,” he said, and received an embarrassed groan in reply.  
He pushed Vash down, stilled his restlessness with a hand on his chest, and went to find the lube in his own discarded pants. “Don’t you dare shut your legs,” he said, seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye, and with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like satisfaction Vash let his knees fall open again. Nick returned and thrust the bottle into Vash’s hand, much to the blond’s confusion. “I want to see you do it to yourself,” he explained. “Put your fingers inside yourself, Vash.”  
Vash shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, but Nick knew it wasn’t a real denial, Vash was too deep in it now, drowning in the headspace Nick had forced him into. The priest took the lube, and Vash’s hand, and coated the gunman’s fingers in slick fluid. He chose the metal hand, and Vash groaned as the stiffer fingers were pressed against his opening. Nick guided them in, and once his digits were inside himself Vash could keep going on his own, fingering himself with his head turned away, hips lifting off the bed, his cock slapping lightly against his navel as he panted. Nick pulled away and just watched, drinking in the sight of the most beautiful, infuriating, mysterious person in his life utterly in his thrall. I like you like this, he thought thinking the only way the moment could be improved was with a cigarette. I’d keep you like this all week if I could. He allowed himself a brief fantasy of leading the Sixty Billion Double Dollar gunman around on by a leash on his cock, and grinned crookedly.  
A choked cry brought him out of his reverie to find that Vash had found his prostate; the blond was quivering, pleasured and embarrassed, semen now decorating his taut belly.  
“Wow you really have done yourself a major disservice, waiting this long,” Nick said, for once as amused as his smile would suggest. “But I’m glad you saved yourself for me, spiky, virginity is a cute look.” He laughed at the expression on Vash’s face. “Let’s test that refraction period. You must be wet enough if you got deep enough to cum from it.”  
Vash looked at him, cheeks red. “Can I take my fingers out?”  
Goddamn, Nick thought. Nothing to follow it up, just one heartfelt blasphemy, torn full-grown from the thigh of his overwhelming lust. “Yeah, Vash. Pull your knees back for me.”  
The Humanoid Typhoon did as he was told, and Nick could see real pleasure on his face now, pleasure at being ordered around, pleasure at obeying. Nick pushed Vash’s knees all the way to his shoulders, bending him like a pretzel, pointing his wet pink hole directly upward for convenient use. “Look at that, you’re coming open all on your own, Vash. Shit you’re sexy.” He pushed in, not too gentle, he didn’t think either of them knew what to do with gentle, if it didn’t come parceled with a joke or some pain. Vash took his cock with a breathless moan, hands fluttering, plucking weakly at the sheets, at Nick’s shoulders, at the headboard. The blond tried to speak and Nick rolled his hips, watch the word fall away into unintelligible moaning. He paused, and did it again as soon as Vash’s eyes started to look more aware, just to watch the pleasure undo him again.  
Nick chuckled and cupped Vash’s face, working his hips slowly, relishing the feel of his cock dragging along his lover’s tight insides. He ran his thumb over Vash’s lips and said, “You can’t even think when there’s a cock inside you, can you?” The only reply he received was Vash opening his mouth to suck eagerly on Nick’s thumb, his hips working desperately for more sensation, almost sobbing with need. Nick obliged him, speeding up, thrusting roughly into Vash, who took every hard jolt with an eager whimper. They were both being loud now, probably too loud for a hotel, but Nick was too deep in it himself by this point to care. He wanted the noise, wanted to hear Vash make some honest sounds for once with his beautiful, disingenuous mouth, sounds that were not fake laughter or even real pain, sounds that were just for Nick. He pushed his belly against Vash’s cock and was rewarded with a new urgency to the moaning, and sudden spurting wetness coating his navel and sticking to his belly hair. He really can orgasm over and over, he realized with delight.  
He resolved to do more with that later, pump Vash like a new-dug well, but his balls were aching too much to get cute with edging. He got his hand on Vash’s face again, his hips pumping relentlessly, shook him until the blond managed to look at him with something resembling coherence. “Ask me to cum in you,” he demanded.  
It would have been easier if he’d left off a minute, stopped or at least slowed the motion of his cock inside Vash, but he didn’t, and for perhaps twenty seconds Vash struggled adorably to obey before finally he managed to string together the requested sentence. It was a thrill all its own to see Vash say something dirty, doubly so when Vash just looked so wrecked, his cock still throbbing and his amiable body welcoming Nick in all the ways he’d known it would.  
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the priest replied, and Vash moaned in anticipation and shut his eyes. Nick didn’t know how sensitive a plant’s insides might be, but Vash clearly felt the first hot spurt. He made a soft noise of acknowledgment and acceptance, and Nick felt the warmth as Vash orgasmed again, more stickiness and musky scent released into the night air.  
Nick drew it out, slowing to a stop by stuttering inches, leaving himself inside Vash until he was soft, until a mere twitch of his hips made him slide out again. He rubbed Vash’s scarred thighs affectionately with his thumbs, and went to grab a cigarette. He smoked it in bed while Vash slowly straightened out, untwisting out of the pretzel Nick had turned him into, and tried to find his way back from where the priest had put him in his mind. Nick idly played with Vash’s hair while he did, monitoring the minute changes in breathing until he could tell Vash was back to normal.  
Or maybe not quite. Idiot mode, at least, did not come back, no sudden howl of chatter to break the silence of afterglow. Eventually, as the silence began to get less sweaty and more companionable, Vash said, “So did you wake up this morning intending to rape me, or was it more of a spur-of-the-moment thing?”  
Nick smoked. “Hell, spiky, I thought this up last week. Wasn’t rape, though.”  
“Pretty sure I remember telling you no.”  
“As a matter of fact, no you did not. Not even close.” There was a busier silence as Vash went over the conversation in his head.  
“Shit.”  
“Besides,” Nick said, around his cigarette, “you didn’t cry.”  
The blond head turned to look at him and he turned his own head, knowing how wide those beautiful eyes would be when he met them. “You cry over every damn thing,” Nick told him. “It’s about the only real thing you do, day to day. And you didn’t cry tonight not once, not even pressure tears.” For a moment he saw an echo of the need he’d woken, broken through to: loneliness like the deep desert, and a thirst to yield to a violence he could trust. They stared at one another until Nick broke the tableau to turn his head and blow smoke. “I’m heading out in the morning, but I’ll be back on Friday. Don’t lock your door this time.”  
“And what if I don’t want you to?” Vash asked, and Nick looked at him like he was an idiot, which indeed he was.  
“Shoot me, you moron. God above.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I rose from my grave to write...Trigun fanfic? Apparently.


End file.
